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Shanks walked down the hallway of the East Blue University dorm with a duffel bag, a backpack slung over his shoulders, and headphones around his neck. He had just signed the paperwork for his accommodation and was heading toward the room assigned to him. When he reached the door, he swiped his magnetic key card across the sensor and stepped inside. The apartment was a mess: it looked like someone was already living there.
“Anyone here?” Shanks called out, closing the door behind him.
He heard quick footsteps approaching and a voice from the other side of the apartment shouting, “Who are you, and how did you-,” but it cut off as soon as they came face to face.
Shanks stared wide-eyed at Buggy’s face, the boy he had shared his high school years with. He was exactly as Shanks remembered: lanky and lean, big blue eyes, and a grumpy expression. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as they locked eyes.
“What are you doing in my room?” Buggy asked then, frowning.
“To be honest, it’s my room now too,” Shanks replied, unfazed.
Buggy stared at him, lips pressed tight. “No way.”
“See for yourself.” Shanks handed him the key card, which clearly displayed the room number.
“Great,” Buggy huffed, handing it back. “What a terrible cosmic joke.”
Shanks laughed. “I’m thrilled to see you too, Bug.”
Buggy rolled his eyes.
An hour and a half later, Shanks had settled his things in his room and returned to the living room, where Buggy was loading the dishwasher, his back to him.
“So… what’s your major?” Shanks asked, breaking the silence.
“Chemistry,” Buggy answered without turning around.
“Should’ve guessed,” Shanks said with a smile. “It’s what you always wanted to do.”
“And you? I’m surprised they even let you into university,” Buggy said sarcastically.
Shanks chuckled. “I was torn between Political Science and International Relations, but I went with the latter.”
“Of course, you’ve always been the diplomat,” Buggy commented. “It was so annoying when someone was fighting, and you’d step in to play peacemaker. Always ruined the fun.”
Shanks bursted out laughing. Buggy finished setting the dishwasher cycle and walked over to him. “I made a calendar with my class schedule,” he said, pointing to a sheet pinned to the fridge. “When you get a chance, add yours so we can start splitting chores based on free time.”
“Sounds good,” Shanks said.“And just so you know, if we’re living together, there need to be rules,” Buggy continued, all business. “Mine are: no bringing your hookups here, no throwing parties, and if you invite someone over, let me know in advance.”
“Fair enough,” Shanks agreed. “I’d add: if you do the grocery shopping, think of the other person, and we take turns replacing shared stuff.”
“Yeah, fine,” Buggy said.
“Oh, about the calendar,” Shanks reflected, “besides classes, I’m planning to find a part-time job, you know, to cover expenses.”
“Alright, add that when you get one,” Buggy replied.
Shanks nodded. “Don’t worry, Bug. I’ll be the perfect roommate.”
That afternoon, Shanks busied himself unpacking while Buggy holed up in his room doing who-knows-what, only coming out around dinnertime.
“There you are, I was about to call you,” Shanks said when he saw him. “I ordered ramen.” He held up the delivery bags, grinning.
“Maybe there’s something good about this living situation,” Buggy commented as they sat down to eat.
“I updated the calendar with my classes,” Shanks informed him while they ate. Buggy’s schedule was marked with a blue pen, so Shanks had used a red one to differentiate and avoid confusion. “I noticed you don’t have a job,” he added. “How do you cover expenses? I didn’t think Roger was that generous with handouts.”
Buggy shot him a sidelong glance. “I’ve got… an online business.”
“Seriously?” Shanks’ eyes widened. “What kind?”
“I offer paid content,” Buggy replied, but he didn’t elaborate, and Shanks could tell he didn’t want to talk about it. Buggy had always been private about personal stuff, so Shanks didn’t push.
They finished eating, and Shanks offered to wash the dirty dishes. Buggy nodded and said he was heading to bed.
“Night, Bug,” Shanks said.
“’Night.”
In the days that followed, their cohabitation went surprisingly smoothly. Shanks and Buggy adapted to each other’s habits better than expected, and thanks to the rules they’d set from the start, they got along most of the time on household matters. Otherwise, they couldn’t go an hour without teasing each other: Buggy’s chaotic nature clashed with Shanks’ laid-back vibe, while Shanks’ playful streak was ignited by Buggy’s sarcastic edge.
Their personality clashes had been evident since high school. Shanks was the charming, popular guy, always drawing admiring glances from girls and making friends effortlessly with his charisma. Buggy, on the other hand, was the prickly, eccentric kid whose sharp wit and impulsive nature always grabbed attention. Their personalities were too strong to share a room: their relationship was full of teasing, arguments, and constant challenges, yet for some reason, they couldn’t stop seeking each other out, stealing glances, or finding excuses to get the other’s attention. There had always been an underlying tension between them, and over the years, Shanks had realized that what he felt for Buggy was deeper and more complex than just friendship. And then there was that night, at the end-of-year party, when they’d given in to passion. Shanks had thought things between them would finally shift, but the way Buggy acted the next day, as if nothing had happened, made it clear he didn’t care. After that, Shanks had pulled away, trying to heal his wounded heart, but seeing Buggy again made him realize those unresolved feelings were still there, waiting to be confronted and overcome.
For now, though, Shanks had more pressing problems. His bank account was dangerously low, and he needed a solution if he didn’t want to lose his dorm spot over unpaid rent. In his first week, he had found a job as a bartender at a nightlife spot, but the shifts were grueling, and the pay wasn’t enough to cover expenses. Shanks was determined not to ask his father, Rayleigh, for help, as he was already dealing with a costly lawsuit for his company, but the longer it went on, the more his funds dwindled.
One evening, Shanks was at the table with a calculator in hand and bills scattered in front of him when Buggy walked into the apartment. He watched Shanks for a moment before speaking. “Trouble with expenses?”
Shanks sighed, standing up. “I’m two months behind on rent. At this rate, they’ll kick me out.”
“Can’t you ask Rayleigh for help?”
“It’s a tough time. There are a lot of expenses at home, and now there’s trouble with the company too.”
Buggy studied him in silence, as if weighing whether to speak. “If you’re that desperate, I can suggest a way to make money fast,” he said cautiously. “But I’m warning you, it’s not… conventional.”
“You trying to get me into dealing?” Shanks teased.
Buggy chucked the half-empty water bottle he was holding at him, and Shanks dodged it, laughing. “Kidding, kidding. Alright, I’m listening.”
Buggy’s expression turned serious. “You know that online business I mentioned?”
Shanks nodded.
Buggy hesitated before continuing. “I make adult content.”
Shanks frowned. “You mean porn?”
“Solo stuff, for now,” Buggy clarified. “Anonymously, for paying subscribers. I’ve been doing it on and off for a few months. It pays well.”
Shanks didn’t say anything for a moment, and Buggy crossed his arms. “If you’re gonna judge me, go ahead. But just so you know, I’ve always dreamed of studying at this university, and I’m not about to get kicked out just because I’m not as rich as everyone else here.”
“You know I’m not the type to judge people’s choices,” Shanks said. “It just caught me off guard, that’s all. So, what were you gonna suggest?”
“We could make a video together,” Buggy offered. “If you’re up for it.”
Shanks looked at him, surprised. Was Buggy really suggesting they have sex? He expected Buggy to say something, to at least hint at what had happened between them in the past, but Buggy said nothing more.
“Thanks for the offer, but it’s not for me,” Shanks said, shaking his head. For him, intimacy was something personal, and he couldn’t accept it being exposed publicly for money. Plus, as much as he might still be attracted to Buggy, he didn’t want to sleep with him just to make a video.
“You sure?” Buggy asked. “Think about it: you could make six hundred in one night or keep living off ramen and debt until graduation.”
Shanks nodded. “I’m sure. I’ll figure out a way to handle the expenses.” When Buggy stayed silent, he added, “I don’t have anything against it, but I just can’t see myself doing something like that”.
Buggy raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. Let’s pretend I didn’t say anything.” Then, with a yawn, he announced he was going to bed, and Shanks wished him goodnight before returning to his calculations.
In the following days, on top of attending classes, Shanks kept working as a bartender, even asking for extra shifts. His last paycheck had covered the rent and bills for the month, but expenses were piling up, and he needed to save something for his account. The pace, though, was exhausting, and he often came home late at night, completely drained.
One evening, when Buggy came home, he found Shanks sitting on the couch, head in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Buggy asked, frowning.
Shanks looked up. “I just got a late payment notice. I was too slow with last month’s rent, and now I don’t know how to pay it,” he explained.
“You already spent your bar money?” Buggy asked.
Shanks nodded. “Between textbooks, tuition, rent, and bills, I’ve got nothing left.”
“And your next paycheck?”
“They don’t pay me until the end of the month. The deadline’s in five days.”
Shanks ran a hand over his face. That afternoon, he had called his father, Rayleigh, for an update on the lawsuit, and as expected, things weren’t going well, so he hadn’t felt right asking for help with his financial troubles. But unless he started working nights too, he needed a solution, and fast.
He turned to Buggy. He didn’t like what he was about to suggest, but he had spent hours thinking, and he couldn’t come up with any other way to make enough money quickly without burdening his family or going into debt. “Listen, I was thinking… is your offer to make a video still on the table?”
Buggy looked at him, surprised.
“I mean… it’s not like you’re a stranger,” Shanks continued. “And as much as I don’t love the idea, I trust you.”
Buggy studied him, as if sizing him up. “You really sure?”
Shanks nodded. “If it’s with you, I’m sure.”
“Then we’ll shoot it tomorrow afternoon,” Buggy concluded.
“Alright,” Shanks said. “But we do it on my terms.”
“Which are?” Buggy asked.
“Nothing too explicit or crude,” Shanks laid out. “And if we’re doing this, we keep it restrained: low lights, faces barely visible, neutral angles.”
Buggy nodded. They spent the rest of the evening planning the video’s details: they set boundaries on what not to do, decided to improvise the rest to keep it natural, and agreed to communicate if something felt off or if either wanted to stop.
That night, Shanks couldn’t sleep. He tormented himself over the decision he had made, wondering if it was really the only option, plagued by moral doubts. He had always had his own sense of modesty – not so much physical but emotional – and exposing that vulnerable side of himself felt like selling out. And above all, he questioned what this would mean for his relationship with Buggy. He knew it wouldn’t mean anything to Buggy, but his heart raced at the thought of being intimate with him again. He couldn’t help wondering if this time would be different, if Buggy would act differently, if he would finally acknowledge what had happened between them in the past.
He sighed. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, but it was too late to back out now.
The next afternoon, Buggy and Shanks went to the supermarket together to buy what they needed for the video.
“Let’s act normal,” Shanks said as they walked in. “We’re not doing anything embarrassing.”
“Right, what’s embarrassing about buying condoms together?” Buggy shot back sarcastically.
“It’s for professional reasons,” Shanks clarified. “Nothing else.” He said it to remind himself that what he was about to do was just a job, a way to make money. He had agreed because he was in financial trouble; there was no romantic motive or desire to show off.
Buggy made a face but didn’t argue. “Since we’re here, let’s go grocery shopping too,” he said, picking up a basket at the entrance. “At least we won’t look too obvious.”
They grabbed some essentials and a few beers, then finally reached the personal hygiene aisle. Shanks eyed the array of condoms on display: classic, ultra-thin, lubricated, delayed, stimulating, flavored.
“What about the delayed ones?” he suggested.
Buggy gave him an ironic look. “To drag out our suffering as long as possible?”
“Stimulating, then?” Shanks offered.
Buggy frowned, then sighed. “If we’re making this video, might as well make it memorable.”
Shanks grabbed a pack and tossed it into the basket. “Just need lube now,” he said.
They moved to the lubricant shelf, and without hesitation, Buggy grabbed a warming, fruit-flavored one.
“Cherry? Seriously?” Shanks commented.
Buggy shrugged. “At least it’ll make things a bit less serious.”
They headed to the checkout. They managed to keep straight faces as the cashier scanned their items, then Buggy paid, and Shanks took the grocery bag.
“Are you really sure you want to do this?” Buggy asked as they left the supermarket.
“I don’t have any other options,” Shanks replied, turning to look at him. “What about you? No second thoughts?”
Buggy shook his head. “I’d rather do it with you than some random guy.”
Shanks felt the same: he didn’t like the idea of Buggy being intimate with a stranger for money. At least, he told himself, he’d make sure Buggy’s well-being came first.
They walked the short distance back to their apartment in silence. The tension was building, and the anticipation of what they were about to do was making them both nervous. Once inside, they set up the equipment without a word. They’d decided to film in Buggy’s room, where he had shot before.
Buggy set up a cheap camera on a small tripod and checked the angle, then lowered the blinds until the light barely illuminated the room, creating a dim atmosphere that ensured more anonymity. Shanks placed the condoms and lube on the nightstand by the bed and set out a towel for when they were done.
“Ready?” Buggy murmured once everything was set.
Shanks’ throat was too tight to speak, so he nodded.
Buggy pressed a button, and the red light came on. The camera started recording.
Shanks moved automatically, starting to undress Buggy with slow movements. Buggy did the same, glancing at him occasionally as if to check that he was okay. Shanks’ hands trembled slightly as he pulled off Buggy’s shirt, and when Buggy started unbuttoning his pants, Shanks let out a small gasp.
Soon, they were naked in front of each other.
Shanks’ chest rose and fell quickly with anticipation as Buggy let his hair down and lay on the bed, guiding Shanks over him. Shanks’ heart raced when the awareness of what he was doing hit him; his palms started to sweat, and his breathing grew ragged as he froze.
Sensing his unease, Buggy propped himself up to get closer. He gently caressed Shanks’ cheek to calm him, looking into his eyes reassuringly, then leaned in to kiss the corner of his lips.
Shanks froze, caught off guard by the gesture.
Buggy pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then slowly moved his lips along Shanks’ neck. Shanks closed his eyes, giving in to Buggy’s touch, letting it ease his anxiety. Buggy’s hands caressed his chest, and when he touched him lower, Shanks released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His anxiety faded as his arousal grew.
Buggy stroked him slowly, continuing to kiss his neck. Then he pulled back just enough to look into his eyes again; his gaze seemed to ask if Shanks was still sure about this, and Shanks nodded to confirm he was before gently pushing Buggy back onto the bed. Buggy wrapped his arms around Shanks as he lowered himself, caressing and tasting his skin with his lips.
After a while, Shanks propped himself up on his arms and grabbed the lube from the nightstand, opening it and pouring some onto his hand. Buggy watched him expectantly, spreading his legs, and sighed softly as Shanks began preparing him carefully. Shanks moved his fingers slowly, making sure to be gentle and listening as Buggy’s breathing grew heavier. When Buggy grabbed his wrist to signal he was ready, Shanks withdrew his fingers.
Buggy reached for the nightstand to grab a condom. Shanks watched as he opened it and slid it onto him with a smooth motion, and that intimate gesture only heightened Shanks’ arousal. He grabbed Buggy’s legs to spread them, and when Buggy nodded, Shanks eased into him slowly. Buggy gripped Shanks’ forearms, closing his eyes, and Shanks stayed still, letting him adjust, feeling Buggy envelop him.
“You okay?” Shanks whispered.
Buggy nodded. “You can move now.”
Shanks obeyed. He moved slowly, anchoring himself to Buggy’s hips, and listened to Buggy’s sounds of approval as he found a rhythm that worked for him. Buggy raised his hands to caress Shanks’ chest.
“Keep going,” Buggy murmured. “You’re perfect.”
Those words made Shanks’ heart race. He leaned down to brush his lips against Buggy’s cheek, and Buggy clung to his shoulders as Shanks picked up the pace, burying his face in Buggy’s neck. Their bodies moved in sync, their ragged breaths filling the room, heating the air around them.
Buggy reached down to touch himself, stroking quickly and impatiently. Shanks pulled back slightly to watch: Buggy was sprawled beneath him, face flushed, eyes closed, so beautiful that Shanks’ heart skipped a beat.
“I’m close,” Buggy whispered between gasps.
Shanks kept a steady rhythm, urging him on with firm thrusts, and watched as Buggy came, moaning softly. The pleasure built inside Shanks, clouding his mind; soon, he felt his climax approaching and, caught in the heat of the moment, leaned down to kiss Buggy deeply before letting go.
He collapsed onto Buggy, his chest heaving. Buggy wrapped his arms around him, stroking his back as they both caught their breath, their heated bodies pressed together.
“You okay?” Buggy murmured.
“Yeah,” Shanks breathed. “You?”
Buggy nodded. After a bit, Shanks reached over to turn off the camera and grabbed the towel by the bed. He cleaned them both carefully, thinking about what they’d just done.
He couldn’t believe he had slept with Buggy to pay his rent. Part of him felt ashamed, but another part – the one that had wanted this moment for so long – couldn’t regret it. He kept replaying the way Buggy had looked at him, the way he had touched him, and felt only satisfaction. He glanced at Buggy: he had seemed at ease despite everything, and he had helped Shanks calm down with a tenderness he hadn’t expected. But Shanks didn’t know if those gestures were genuine or just for the camera, and that troubled him.
Buggy seemed to sense something was off and propped himself up on his elbows to look at him. “Are you regretting it?”
His eyes seemed to pierce Shanks’ soul. Shanks held his gaze, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he answered honestly.
Buggy studied him for a moment before nodding. Then, with an unreadable expression, he raised a hand and brushed Shanks’ sweaty hair off his forehead. Shanks froze, feeling Buggy’s fingers graze his skin, and for a moment, his breath stopped.
The moment didn’t last. Buggy got up, still naked, and headed for the door. “I’m gonna shower.”
Shanks, left alone, flopped back onto the bed with a sigh.
Later that evening, Buggy told him he had uploaded the video to his account. “Wanna see it?” he asked.
Shanks shook his head. “Have you?”
“No,” Buggy replied. “But maybe I should. It’s selling really well.”
Shanks walked over to him. Buggy was sitting at the table with his laptop open, and he showed Shanks a screen with the earnings from the views. “What do you think?”
“Not bad,” Shanks said. “At least I won’t have to worry about getting evicted for a while.”
They sat in silence for a moment. “Anyway, thanks for helping me calm down earlier,” Shanks said.
“No problem,” Buggy replied. After a pause, he added, “I didn’t think you’d kiss me”.
His tone was neutral, and Shanks couldn’t tell what he was feeling. “Neither did I,” he admitted. He shouldn’t have – they hadn’t discussed if it was okay – but he had been caught up in the moment and couldn’t hold back.
“Did you do it for the camera?” Buggy asked.
“No,” Shanks said, maybe too quickly.
Buggy gave him an unreadable look, then shrugged. “Anyway, wanna eat something? There’s leftover pizza in the fridge.”
“If it’s that pineapple pizza you ordered yesterday, you can keep it,” Shanks replied.
Buggy frowned. “What’s wrong with pineapple pizza?”
“You kidding?” Shanks’ eyes widened. “How do you eat that stuff?”
“You’re just talking like that because you’ve never tried it.”
“And I don’t plan to.”
They slipped easily back into their usual banter, and the tension between them finally eased.
In the days that followed, Shanks expected it would be hard to adjust to what had happened between him and Buggy. The awareness of what they’d done hung in the air whenever they were in the same room, whenever they looked at each other or accidentally brushed against one another. But the atmosphere wasn’t awkward, and after a while, everything seemed to go back to normal, as if nothing had happened. Sometimes, though, Shanks couldn’t help replaying the way Buggy had touched him, their bodies pressed together, his lips on Buggy’s. He had hoped that after that moment of intimacy, something in Buggy would change, that what they’d done would mean something to him, but he had to accept that Buggy’s feelings for him were the same as before.
Anyway, Shanks was grateful things between them hadn’t gotten complicated. He already had enough trouble coming to terms with what he had done. He kept telling himself it was a necessary choice, driven by financial struggles and the desire not to burden his family, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had sacrificed his integrity, exposing something deeply personal for mere profit. Just weeks ago, he would never have imagined becoming someone who had sex to pay rent, but now he wasn’t sure what to think of himself. And despite the precautions they had taken to stay anonymous, he feared someone might recognize him. It wasn’t the nudity that bothered him – he had never been particularly shy – but he worried about what his friends, classmates, or, worse, his family would think if they found out, and the impact it could have on his reputation and future career.
That afternoon, he was sitting on his bed, laptop open in front of him. He wasn’t watching the video – he couldn’t bear to see himself so exposed – but he was scrolling through the comments below to make sure no one had recognized them. The comments, though, were mostly praising their performance and speculating about their relationship.
‘These two have insane chemistry.’
‘That final kiss was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘They look like a couple, not just friends hooking up.’
‘The guy on top was definitely into it.’
Shanks closed the laptop with a sigh. He already felt exposed enough without people commenting on his obvious emotional investment.
“How do you do it?” he asked Buggy later.
It was one of those rare evenings when they weren’t ordering takeout, so they were both in the kitchen preparing dinner. Buggy was whisking eggs while Shanks roughly chopped vegetables.
“Do what?” Buggy replied.
“Handle it,” Shanks said.
Buggy turned to him. “You mean the video?”
Shanks nodded. “How do you just put yourself out there so casually in such a private moment? Aren’t you afraid someone might recognize you? That it could affect how people see you?”
“I’m different from you, Shanks,” Buggy answered. “I don’t see sex as something to hide but as a way to express myself openly. Knowing I’m being watched helps me live it fully. I’m not just doing it for money but to be free, to claim the right to do what I want with my body. So no, I’m not scared of being recognized or judged, because I’m not doing anything wrong.” He paused, looking at Shanks intently. “And neither are you. In fact, to get out of a tough spot, you went against your values to avoid burdening your family. That says a lot about you. Anyone who judges you just doesn’t know you.”
Shanks stayed silent, struck by his words.
“Anyway, I’ve been careful. No one will recognize us,” Buggy continued. “But if they do, you won’t face it alone. We’re in this together.”
That unspoken promise of support reassured Shanks. Knowing Buggy had his back made him less anxious, and learning that Buggy didn’t judge him for what he had agreed to do made him feel better. “Thanks, Bug.”
Buggy shrugged, giving him that high-school look that said ‘No big deal.’ “Here, whisk the eggs,” he said, handing him the bowl. “No offense, but I’m better with the knife than you. Seriously, Shanks, you call these cubes?”
Shanks let out a laugh. “Not my fault I’m not a precision master like you.”
Buggy rolled his eyes with a huff, and Shanks watched as he started chopping the vegetables, his face set in concentration. There was something mesmerizing about his movements – the way he deftly handled the knife, the way he impatiently brushed a strand of blue hair from his eyes – and Shanks found himself smiling, thinking about how Buggy could capture his full attention with such trivial gestures.
They kept cooking in comfortable silence, and Shanks couldn’t help noticing how domestic the atmosphere felt. Just days ago, they’d had sex, and now they were cooking together like it was second nature. It hit him that he wanted a lifetime of moments like that. He knew he should keep those thoughts in check before he got hurt, but for that evening, he let himself enjoy their closeness without overthinking the consequences.
Meanwhile, thanks to what they’d done, Shanks’ financial situation had improved. The video had covered the unexpected late fee and other monthly expenses, but he kept working grueling shifts at the bar to save something. Despite his attraction to Buggy, he didn’t want to sleep with him just because of money troubles. However, the weight of everything – classes, studying, work – was starting to take its toll.
One evening, while closing the bar, he suddenly felt dizzy. His vision blurred, and before he knew it, he had passed out. He woke up in the ER, head heavy and an IV in his arm. A doctor told him he’d had a drop in blood pressure due to nutritional deficiency and that they were giving him an IV to replenish nutrients and electrolytes. Shanks sighed. Lately, with his hectic schedule, he had been skipping meals, but he hadn’t thought it would make him sick.
The doctor said he couldn’t go home alone and asked if there was someone he could call. Shanks hesitated, then pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Buggy?”
“Shanks?” Buggy’s sleepy voice came from the other end. “Do you realize it’s two in the morning?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Shanks paused. He wasn’t even sure why he had called Buggy of all people.
When he didn’t say anything, Buggy’s tone turned serious. “Something wrong? Where are you?”
Shanks sighed. “I’m in the ER.”
“The ER?” Buggy’s voice spiked. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a fainting, no big deal,” Shanks explained. “But they won’t let me leave without someone to come get me, and I… didn’t know who else to call.”
Buggy stayed silent for a moment, and Shanks thought he might hang up. “Which ER?” he asked then.
Shanks told him.
“I’m on my way,” Buggy said simply before hanging up.
Less than an hour later, Buggy arrived. Shanks had finished the IV and was waiting in the reception area. When Buggy saw him, he strode over, looking concerned.
“So? You okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
“I’m fine,” Shanks said. “Sorry for dragging you out here.”
“What the hell happened? Why did you faint?”
“Must’ve been exhaustion. I’ve been working so much I forgot to eat.”
Buggy glared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Shanks stood, and they approached the ER reception desk. The clerk handed him a bill, and when Shanks checked it, his heart sank unpleasantly.
The bill was for seven hundred. He had just four hundred in his account and only a hundred fifty in his wallet.
His hands started to sweat. He didn’t have enough money. No matter how hard he worked, expenses always seemed to overwhelm him.
He was pulled from his thoughts by Buggy’s voice. “I’ll pay with this.”
Shanks turned to look at him. Buggy had handed his card to the clerk, his face impassive. Shanks didn’t know what to say. Buggy had come to pick him up in the middle of the night and was now paying his bill like it was no big deal. He hadn’t expected that kindness.
“You didn’t have to,” Shanks murmured as they left the ER. “I owe you.”
“No, you don’t,” Buggy said firmly. “And it wasn’t a problem for me.”
Shanks was grateful Buggy didn’t make him feel bad about it. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “And thanks for coming.”
“You did the same for me once,” Buggy replied. “Back in high school. Remember?”
Shanks nodded. He remembered that night.
Buggy called him, his breath shaky on the other end of the line. ‘Shanks?’
‘Buggy? What’s wrong?’ Shanks answered, sleepy. When Buggy didn’t respond right away, he grew alarmed. ‘Is there a problem with him?’
At that time, Buggy was seeing an older guy Shanks had never liked.
‘We were together, but… we fought, and I left.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘On the street. I don’t know where I’m going. I just… needed to get away.’
‘Did he hurt you?’
A pause. ‘Not physically.’
Shanks closed his eyes, his hands trembling.
‘I didn’t know who else to call,’ Buggy added, his voice cracking. ‘Can you come?’
‘Yeah, of course,’ Shanks replied without hesitation. He got up and crossed the city in the middle of the night to find him.
Shanks smiled at the memory. That was when he had started to realize his feelings for Buggy.
“Anyway,” Buggy said, pulling him from his thoughts as they walked to the nearby bus stop, “why don’t you quit that job?”.
Shanks turned to look at him.
“I mean, you work late shifts, come home exhausted, and the pay’s not even good,” Buggy continued. “I thought after last time, making videos wouldn’t be an issue for you. Have you changed your mind?”
Shanks shook his head. “It’s not that.”
“Then explain,” Buggy pressed. “Why keep slaving at the bar when you could make money from what we’ve got?”
Shanks looked down. “I don’t want to rely on those videos. I don’t want to believe it’s the only way.”
Buggy was quiet for a moment. “I know it goes against your principles,” he said then, “but I don’t want to see you coming home wiped out every night. You’re working so hard you’re skipping meals. How long do you think you can keep this up?” He paused. “I’m not saying we have to make videos every day, but we can do it on our terms, find a balance.”
Shanks ran a hand through his hair, looking torn. After a moment, he sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I just hate the idea of selling myself. I’m scared this will spiral out of control, that I will lose myself.”
“You can’t lose yourself if you’re the one in control,” Buggy replied. “I’m not forcing you to do anything, but if we do this… we do it our way.”
Shanks thought it over, then nodded. “Alright. I won’t quit the bar completely, but I can cut back on shifts, give myself some breathing room.”
“Deal,” Buggy said. “And if this doesn’t work for you, we’ll find another way that doesn’t involve killing yourself with work.” He smirked. “Maybe you could actually start dealing.”
Shanks laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days.
And so it became a regular thing, a steady collaboration – or a business, as Buggy called it – done with rules that respected both their boundaries and schedules. And it seemed to work, because they were earning well. Their sexual chemistry was undeniable: each video was more passionate and daring than the last, though Shanks refused to do anything extreme or rough. Buggy had laughed, calling him a ‘romantic traditionalist’. Still, there were times when Shanks couldn’t help wondering if he was doing the right thing.
One evening, while washing dishes, he found himself thinking about how easy it had become to strip in front of the camera. Just weeks ago, he’d never have imagined going this far, and now he barely recognized himself.
“Shanks, you coming?” Buggy called from the living room. “I picked the movie for tonight.”
“Be right there,” Shanks replied, hurrying to finish and join him.
Buggy was waiting on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table. Shanks sat beside him, teasing him about his questionable taste in movies, but he couldn’t help smiling when Buggy tossed a popcorn at him, declaring the film he had chosen was a masterpiece. As Buggy started the movie, Shanks thought that, despite his occasional doubts about their venture, he wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else. What they had was theirs alone, and he felt he could face anything as long as Buggy was by his side.
A few afternoons later, Shanks was back in Buggy’s room, where they’d set up everything to film. The camera was already positioned, aimed at them.
“Ready?” Buggy asked.
Unlike the first times, Shanks no longer had a lump in his throat, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “Yeah.”
Buggy pressed a button, and the camera started recording. This time, there was less awkwardness between them. Their hands moved with more confidence as they undressed each other, every gesture natural and deliberate. When they were naked in front of each other, Buggy looked at him intensely, and for a moment, Shanks forgot to breathe. Then Buggy wrapped his arms around Shanks’ neck and kissed him.
It was a slow, open-mouthed kiss that caught Shanks off guard and made his toes curl. Buggy pulled back after a moment; his burning gaze set Shanks ablaze, and he pulled Buggy into another kiss. As they kissed, Buggy sat on him, legs spread on either side of his body. His hands roamed everywhere, and Shanks grabbed his hips, pulling him closer.
They broke apart to catch their breath, then, with a fluid motion, Buggy pushed Shanks onto the bed, resting his hands on Shanks’ chest for support. He ran them down Shanks’ abs and lower, gripping him and stroking slowly. Shanks closed his eyes; the way Buggy touched him drove him wild. After a bit, Buggy stopped. Shanks watched him reach for the lube on the nightstand and slowly start preparing himself, keeping his eyes on Shanks the whole time.
“You like watching me, don’t you?” Buggy whispered, his voice dripping with mischief.
Shanks swallowed, instinctively tightening his grip on Buggy’s hips. He knew Buggy was just playing it up for the camera, but that provocative attitude was driving him crazy. Finally, Buggy pulled his fingers back, deeming himself ready. Shanks grabbed a condom and put it on, trembling with anticipation.
Without breaking his fiery gaze, Buggy guided Shanks inside him. Shanks waited for him to adjust, caressing his body, and Buggy leaned down to kiss him passionately. Then, slowly, he started moving, and Shanks moved with him, matching his rhythm. His eyes never left Buggy’s; that intense gaze pinned him, and the way Buggy moved was irresistible. With a faint smile, Buggy sped up slightly, and Shanks followed suit.
The dim light softened Buggy’s features, and his blue hair fell around his face and shoulders, making him look incredibly beautiful. Shanks sat up, grabbing the back of Buggy’s neck and pulling him into a hungry kiss. Buggy sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Shanks’ neck. They parted, gasping, and Shanks ran his hands down Buggy’s back, holding him close and picking up the pace. Buggy clung to his shoulders, his breath ragged, and Shanks hugged him tightly as they reached their climax together.
Buggy reached over to turn off the camera before collapsing onto Shanks, resting his head on his chest. Shanks stroked his hair as they both panted, sweaty and flushed.
“Not bad, red,” Buggy murmured, breathless.
Shanks laughed softly. “Not bad? That was incredible.”
Buggy propped himself up to look at him, leaning against him. A faint smile played on his lips. Shanks brushed his cheek, and when Buggy looked at him with a rare softness, for a moment, it felt like they’d just made love instead of filming a video. But then Buggy got up, and Shanks watched him walk over to grab water bottles from the nightstand. He handed one to Shanks, who sat up to take a sip, feeling Buggy’s gaze linger on him.
“What?” he asked.
Buggy shrugged slightly. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much I could earn with a picture of you right now.”
Shanks bursted out laughing.
“I’m serious,” Buggy went on. “Bet the fans would go wild. You could consider a career as a porn model.”
“Is that your way of saying I’m hot?” Shanks teased with a smirk.
“It’s my way of saying you’re stupidly photogenic, even when you look like a mess,” Buggy shot back.
Shanks chuckled, propping himself on his elbow. “Well, if you’re making money off my picture, at least give me a cut.”
“I can give you thirty percent,” Buggy offered.
“Forty?”
“Only if you strike a pose.”
“Deal.” Shanks grinned, and Buggy grinned back.
Their dynamic didn’t seem to have changed. They approached it without embarrassment, treating what they had as a straightforward professional arrangement, but there were moments when Shanks thought he caught glimpses of something more than just acting. The way Buggy looked at him, the way he held him tightly while kissing him, felt almost genuine, charged with something he didn’t say out loud but showed with his body. Shanks couldn’t help but be reminded of their night of passion in high school.
The party was chaotic, full of music, alcohol, and low lights. Buggy’s hair was loose, swaying as he danced, and Shanks leaned against the wall with a beer in hand, unable to look away. For a moment, their eyes met, and it was like time stopped. Then Shanks crossed the room toward him.
Buggy saw him coming and stopped dancing. Shanks stopped in front of him, their eyes locked for a long moment as everyone else around them seemed to vanish. Then Buggy walked away, heading somewhere quieter, and Shanks followed, his body moving almost on autopilot.
When they left the living room, Shanks pinned Buggy against the hallway wall, one hand braced beside his head.
‘Running away?’ he murmured, his voice audible now that the music was muffled.
‘Had to,’ Buggy replied softly. ‘If you kept looking at me like that, I would have done something stupid.’
Buggy’s face was flushed, his eyelids slightly lowered as he gazed at Shanks intensely. Shanks knew they’d both been drinking and that the alcohol was making them bold, but he didn’t care, not when Buggy was so close.
‘Like what?’ he whispered.
‘Like this.’ Buggy pulled him into a kiss, gripping the back of his neck like he never wanted to let go. Shanks grabbed his hips, kissing him back without hesitation.
It was a rough, hungry kiss, like they had both been waiting for it forever. Buggy pulled him closer as they kissed deeply, their bodies pressed together, hands seeking skin under clothes. They kissed again and again, each one more intense than the last. Then Buggy led him to an empty bedroom, and Shanks pushed him onto the bed before climbing on top. They undressed between kisses, impatient and eager, touching and exploring each other for what felt like forever.
At one point, Shanks pulled back to look at him. Buggy was trembling beneath him, hands gripping Shanks’ hips to anchor himself. Shanks kissed every inch of his body, Buggy’s burning gaze fixed on him.
And then, finally, it happened.
They had made love, and the whole time, Buggy had looked at him almost with adoration, as if Shanks was the only person in the world. Afterward, they had gotten dressed, left the party, and gone to Shanks’ house, where they had fallen asleep side by side in his bed.
Shanks had woken up with Buggy still curled against him. He had never felt so happy: he had made love to the boy he loved, after years of longing for that moment. He had gotten up carefully so as not to wake Buggy, grabbed his keys, and gone out. At the nearest bakery, he had bought apricot croissants – Buggy’s favorite – to surprise him, then had returned home.
Buggy was awake, hungover. Shanks had thought he’d look at him differently, say something. But Buggy acted like nothing had happened, and something inside Shanks broke. The way Buggy had kissed him, had clung to him – with that desperation and need – had made Shanks think he loved him, wanted him, craved that moment of intimacy as much as Shanks did. But now it seemed Buggy didn’t even want to talk about it, and Shanks was afraid to ask about that night and find out it meant nothing to him, or worse, that he regretted it.
And now they were regularly filming themselves having sex.
Shanks had thought it would be easy to sleep with Buggy without getting caught up in his feelings for him, but he was wrong. Every touch on Buggy’s body was laced with adoration, every kiss deep as if he wanted to etch it into his soul. He had known the risk when he agreed, and he didn’t expect anything from Buggy. Yet the way Buggy acted in some moments gave him hope, once again, that things between them might eventually change.
One afternoon, they were both in the kitchen. Shanks was loading the dishwasher, and Buggy was sitting at the table with his laptop open.
“We got an offer,” Buggy said suddenly.
Shanks turned to him. “What kind of offer?”
“There’s this guy, pretty big on porn platforms,” Buggy started. “He saw some of our videos and proposed a collaboration.”
Shanks frowned. “A collaboration?”
“Yeah, you know… filming a video with the three of us together.” Buggy said it casually, like it was no big deal.
Shanks looked at him, incredulous. “And you’d want to do it?”
“Why not?” Buggy shrugged. “That kind of video is always a hit, and with his popularity, we’d make a ton.”
“We’ve made enough this past month,” Shanks said. “We don’t need to do this video.”
“True,” Buggy replied, “but it’s still a good deal”.
Shanks fell silent, unsettled. “I thought what we had was just ours,” he said, his voice low and tense.
“It is,” Buggy said calmly. “But I don’t see anything wrong with mixing it up now and then. It’s just work, after all. It’s not like we’re a couple or anything.”
Shanks’ jaw tightened involuntarily. He had fooled himself into thinking there could be something more between them, but it was clear that for Buggy, they were only having sex for money.
“I can’t keep doing this,” Shanks declared, running a hand through his hair.
Buggy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t handle it anymore,” Shanks said. “I thought I could deal with it, but I was wrong.”
“Are you serious?” Buggy stood up. “For months, everything was fine, and now you suddenly can’t handle it? What’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Shanks spoke, his gaze hard, “is that for you, it’s just sex, but for me, it’s not. It never has been”.
Buggy’s eyes widened, incredulous, then he crossed his arms, looking at Shanks warily. “Since when, exactly?”
Shanks took a step forward. “Since always.”
Buggy stared at him. “Then why did you agree to do all this?”
Shanks hesitated, then admitted, “Because I didn’t know any other way to get close to you”.
“Oh, you wanted to get close to me,” Buggy said skeptically. “Yet I seem to recall you were the one who pulled away after high school.”
“Pulled away?!” Shanks repeated, stunned. “You made love to me like you were madly in love, then acted like it meant nothing. What was I supposed to do?”
In a flash, Buggy slammed him against the wall, grabbing him by the collar. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Shanks stared at him, incredulous. Was Buggy really going to deny it? “Don’t pretend you don’t know. I’m talking about that night at the party.”
Buggy froze, staring at him, his expression a mix of anger and confusion.
“That night at the party, we made love,” Shanks continued, jaw clenched. “And you looked at me like I was the only one in the world, only to treat me like I didn’t exist afterward.”
Buggy let him go abruptly, stepping back as if he had been punched in the gut. He stared at Shanks with wide eyes. “Shanks, I don’t remember a damn thing!” he exploded, his voice anguished and frustrated.
The kitchen fell silent. Shanks looked at him, stunned, leaning against the wall with his arms at his sides. “What?”
“I don’t remember anything from that night. I was drunk,” Buggy confessed. “All I remember is waking up at your place with a killer headache, and I thought you’d brought me there because I’d had too much to drink.” He ran a hand over his face, shaken. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Shanks looked down, hit by the truth. All this time, he had thought Buggy had rejected him, but now that he knew how things really were, he felt a mix of pain and relief that left him breathless. “I didn’t know you didn’t remember. I thought you didn’t care, that you didn’t want to talk about it.”
Buggy started to say something but stopped. He looked lost, adrift. “The next morning, you had bought apricot croissants,” he murmured, piecing together a hazy memory. “My favorite.” His gaze softened as he looked at Shanks, then filled with remorse and guilt. “I’m sorry for how I made you feel. I didn’t mean to treat you like that. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. If I’d known…”
“Forget it,” Shanks said. “What would it have changed? Maybe it’s better you don’t remember that night at all, rather than remembering it as a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Buggy frowned.
“I mean,” Shanks said, looking away, “if you forgot it, maybe it wasn’t that important to you.” He was relieved to learn Buggy hadn’t pulled away because he rejected what they’d had, but at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling bitter. He had been drunk too, yet he could never have forgotten that night.
Buggy clenched his fists. “If what you’re saying happened, it was the most important night of my life!”
Shanks’ eyes widened. He hadn’t expected that.
“You should’ve told me!” Buggy went on, his voice fierce. “I spent months wondering if I’d done something wrong, if I’d just imagined what was between us. When I suggested making a video together, it wasn’t just to help you. I… didn’t know any other way to get close to you either. I was never acting when we slept together, Shanks, but afterward, I played it off like it didn’t mean anything because I thought that’s how it was for you. If I’d known about that night, everything would’ve been different!”
Shanks was speechless. He stepped away from the wall, moving closer to him. “You’re saying you made those videos to be close to me?” he asked, surprised. “But then… why’d you suggest that collaboration earlier?”
Buggy looked down. “Because the intimacy we have scared me. I felt exposed, and I thought adding someone else would let me pretend it was just work, just sex.”
Shanks’ heart pounded as the truth cut through the confusion and uncertainty. He took Buggy’s face in his hands, feeling a hope so intense it almost hurt. “So… can we stop pretending?”
Buggy looked at him intensely, as if making sure he meant it, then leaned forward and kissed him. Shanks pulled him closer, kissing him back with fervor.
They kissed for a long time, their lips savoring each other, hands clutching one another almost desperately. They parted to breathe, and Shanks’ hands moved to grab the hem of Buggy’s shirt, lifting it and pulling it off impatiently. Buggy did the same, then kissed him again as they started backing toward the couch.
Shanks gently pushed Buggy onto the couch, then knelt in front of him, staying half-upright. Buggy sat up, running his hands along Shanks’ abs and gazing at him fiercely as he began kissing the line of his stomach. His lips moved slowly downward, and Shanks’ heart raced as his arousal grew. Buggy left a final kiss right above the waistband of Shanks’ pants, then started unbuttoning them with eager movements.
When they were both naked, they sank onto the couch, their bodies pressed together as they kissed passionately. Shanks sighed when Buggy gripped his erection, stroking slowly, and pressed his lips to Buggy’s neck, leaving soft kisses. He took his time preparing Buggy carefully, and when Buggy spread his legs impatiently, Shanks grabbed his hips, entering him slowly. Buggy wrapped his arms around Shanks’ shoulders, pulling him into a kiss, and gasped slightly as Shanks sped up. His soft moans excited Shanks, who lifted Buggy’s legs to thrust deeper.
“Shanks…!” Buggy gasped as Shanks leaned down to kiss his cheek. He ran his hands down Shanks’ back, pulling him closer and pressing his lips to his shoulder. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony as they lost themselves in each other. Then Shanks pulled back slightly to look at him, reaching down to stroke Buggy’s hardness, and Buggy clung to him, digging his fingers into Shanks’ shoulders to anchor himself.
Shanks’ hand moved more firmly, matching the rhythm of his hips, as Buggy gave in to his touch, his body trembling with pleasure. Shanks felt Buggy tighten around him, and his control wavered.
He leaned down to kiss him deeply, their tongues intertwining as his thrusts grew more urgent. Buggy panted beneath him, meeting each thrust with a gasp before letting go, reaching his climax. Shanks gave in to the pleasure too, burying his face in Buggy’s neck as he came. Then he collapsed beside him, wrapping an arm around him, and Buggy, still panting, rested his head on Shanks’ shoulder. For a moment, neither spoke as they lay satisfied on the couch, bodies entwined, breaths rapid.
“Didn’t expect the afternoon to take this turn,” Buggy murmured then.
“With you, Buggy, one never know what to expect,” Shanks said with a smile, stroking his hair.
Buggy propped himself up on his elbow to look at him. “What do we do now?”
“About what?”
“About us. About our videos.”
Shanks was silent for a moment. “I… don’t want what we have to belong to anyone else,” he said softly.
“It doesn’t,” Buggy murmured. “What we have is just ours.”
“Then why keep putting it out there?” Shanks asked.
“Because I’m not ashamed to love you even in front of a camera,” Buggy answered honestly. “Showing what we have amplifies what I feel, makes me feel alive.”
Shanks caressed his arm as if to anchor himself to him, a hint of worry in his eyes. “I’m not like you, Buggy. I’m not comfortable showing something so private. I’m scared our intimacy will turn into a show, a performance.”
Buggy shook his head slightly. “We’re not performing, Shanks. We’re showing something real, we always have. But this time, when the camera’s off, it’s still us – real, even without it pointed at us.” Seeing Shanks’ hesitation, he added, “If you want to stop, we stop. I don’t want to force you. I just want you to understand that for me, showing what we have is a way to claim publicly that I’m yours, and you’re mine. And I can’t get enough of that. It’s part of who I am”.
“I know. And I love you for how openly you live everything,” Shanks said. He paused, thinking. “We can find a compromise,” he said finally. “We don’t have to show everything. Some moments are just for us.”
“I’m in,” Buggy said, leaning in to kiss him. “We don’t have to do it forever,” he added, looking at him. “Just to get by while we’re in college. But if it’s too much for you, we stop.”
Shanks nodded, feeling lighter. “Alright.”
Buggy leaned down to kiss his chest, then another, and another. He moved lower, his gaze never leaving Shanks’, and Shanks smiled, giving in to his attention. For the first time, he had no doubts. With Buggy by his side, with the promise of finding a balance to protect their intimacy, maybe he could find a new way to love without betraying himself.
From that moment, everything changed between them, and yet nothing did. They continued their adult content venture – less frequently, ensuring they protected their intimacy – knowing they no longer had to pretend they felt nothing for each other but could love openly. They showed post-sex affection, bloopers like banging into the headboard or putting on a condom backward in their rush, spontaneous moments during setup when they laughed over something personal or exchanged affectionate glances. They were a great team, and their audience loved them. Things were going well financially and in their relationship, though they still bickered over small things like pineapple pizza. There were times when Shanks still had doubts about exposing himself or when Buggy sought attention in the wrong ways, but they’d learned to listen to each other and tackle even the toughest topics.
“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if you’d never suggested doing porn?” Buggy asked one evening as they sat on the couch eating takeout ramen.
“Probably I’d still be working at that bar. Or in the hospital after another fainting spell,” Shanks replied with a smile. “And, most importantly, I wouldn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I think we would’ve ended up together anyway, somehow,” Buggy said. “I mean… it was kind of inevitable, considering we ended up at the same university, sharing the same room.”
Shanks grinned. “You called it ‘a terrible cosmic joke',” he recalled. “Maybe we should call it ‘fate.’”
Buggy rolled his eyes, and Shanks chuckled, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
They didn’t know what the future held, but they were determined to face it by communicating openly, not shying away from tough conversations, and, above all, no longer hiding their feelings behind pretense and silence.